UC-NRLF 


PS 

3537 

T313 

L4 

1910 

MAIN 


B    M    IDE 


THE  LEAST  OF  THESE 

BY 
LINCOLN  STEFFENS 


iRARY 

> 

»RNIA 

[SIDENT. 
RAY 


t 

. 


THE  LEAST  OF  THESE 


THE  LEAST  OF 
THESE 

A    FACT    STORY 


BY 
LINCOLN  STEFFENS 


HILLACRE    BOOKHOUSE 

RIVERSIDE,    CONN. 

1910 


Copyright,  1908,  by  The  Ridgway  Company 
Copyright,   1910,  by  Frederick  C.   Bursch 


P535: 


DEDICATION. 


y^^HIS   little   book  is   made 

)  for    bad   people  :   sinners 

who  know  that  they  sin. 

And  it  is  meant,  not  to  correct 

but    to    comfort    them;    as  they 

understood  from   the  start,  they 

and  their  friends;  and  no  one  else 

^* 

apparently.  Everybody's  Mag 
azine  published  the  story  original 
ly,  in  the  January  number,  1909, 
and  you  can  see,  from  the  first  line 
to  the  last,  that  I  thought  every 
body  would  rejoice  with  me  over 
5 

714 


DEDICATION 


the  very  personal  good  news  I 
was  reporting.  And  many  letters 
came,  and  some  of  them  showed 
an  understanding  that  was  pro 
found.  But  others  asked  to 
know  more. 

Most  of  these  were  from  good 
men  and  women  who  said  that 
they  couldn't  see  the  good  in  my 
good  news.  Had  they  failed  to 
find  the  news  in  it,  I  should  not 
have  been  so  instructed,  since 
the  gospel  of  "  the  least  of  these  " 
was  just  about  1909  years  old 
when  I  reported  this  example 
of  it. 

I  cannot  help  these  people. 
They  need  help.  I  feel  sincere 
ly  that  good  people  need  more 


DEDICATION 


help  than  any  other  kind  of 
people;  they  are  sinners  who  do 
not  know  that  they  sin.  But  — 
for  that  reason,  perhaps  —  they 
don't  know  enough  of  the  evil  in 
the  world  to  know  so  much  of 
the  good  as  there  is  in  Bailey's 
story. 

I  can  satisfy  them   upon   one 
point,  however.     All  the  readers 
who  missed  my   "moral"    (so  to 
speak)    were    interested    in    my 
hero,    and    they    all    asked    the 
question  the  children  always  ask : 
"And  what  became  of  Bailey  ?" 
The  story  found  Bailey.      He 
had  disappeared,  leaving  no  trace 
behind.      (He  had  "correspond 
ed"   with  others;   there  was  no 
7 


DEDICATION 


one  to  "  correspond  "  with  him.) 
But  I  hoped  —  and  feared  —  that 
he  might  see  his  story  in  the 
magazine ;  and  he  did.  Along 
in  August — seven  months  later — 
he  wrote  me  from  the  sunny 
Southwest. 

"Dear  Friend/'  he  began  and, 
I  imagine,  he  hesitated.  But  he 
decided  for  me.  "  I  think  I  may 
[call  you  that]/'  he  said. 

"  Your  article  has  just  come  to 
my  attention  by  chance.  I  could 
not  help  but  recognize  Bailey 
and  the  Director.  Let  me  thank 
you  for  it,  for  the  *  heart '  in  the 
story,  the  help  and  the  courage 
it  will  give  to  many,  and  for 
understanding  Bailey  —  a  little/' 


DEDICATION 


That  was  all.  Nothing  about 
himself,  but  he  signed  his  right 
name  and  he  gave  his  address,  so 
I  asked  the  children's  question. 
He  answered,  and  this  second 
letter,  like  the  first,  is  reproduced 
in  facsimile  on  another  page. 

If  this  were  a  fiction  story  and 
I  had  invented  it,  these  sunny 
letters  might  be  polished  into 
a  happy  ending.  But  a  fact- 
story  never  ends ;  never ;  nor  the 
battles  of  life.  Bailey's  final 
battle  isn't  fought  and  won.  No 
man  knows  that  better  than 
Bailey.  He  will  have  other 
battles  to  fight  and,  even  if  he 
wins  them  all,  there  will  be 
other  fellows  with  battles  to  win, 

9 


DEDICATION 


and  lose.  And  some  of  these 
losers  wrote  to  me,  and  I  noticed 
that  not  one  of  them  asked  me 
what  had  become  of  Bailey. 
They  didn't  dare,  I  guess;  they 
assumed  that  Bailey,  like  them, 
had  fought  and  lost.  And  they 
didn't  mind,  evidently.  The 
story  ended  well  enough  for  them. 
It  comforted  them,  and  —  since 
God  is  the  author  of  it,  I  may 
say  —  they  "love  it,"  as  they 
wrote;  and  had  "cut  it  out  to 
keep." 

And  these  are  the  people  for 
whom  this  book  is  cut  out  and 
put  in  shape  to  carry  in  a  hip 
pocket  or  under  a  shirt.  It  will 
lie  well  between  a  bare  breast 

10 


DEDICATION 


and  a  "jimmy/'  for  example; 
and  I  would  not  have  any  son  of 
man  leave  the  book  behind  just 
because  he  was  going  to  break 
into  a  house  at  night,  or  get 
drunk,  or  preach  half  the  truth, 
or  write  a  lie,  or  employ  little 
children,  or  sell  bad  goods,  or 
accept,  or  even  offer,  a  bribe. 
That's  the  very  time  to  have  it 
by.  For  the  comforting  truth 
Bailey  has  brought  to  book  here 
is  that  there  will  be  hope  for  us, 
even  after  we  shall  have  done 
the  wrong  we  are  planning  pre 
sently  to  do ;  any  wrong  by  any 
body  :  you,  I,  even  Bailey ;  and 
that  even  after  he  or  I  or  you 
shall  have  fought  our  last  fight, 
ii 


DEDICATION 


even  though  we  lose  it,  even  then 
there  still  will  be  hope,  and  faith, 
and  love  to  give. 

L.  S. 


Little  Point,  Riverside,  Conn. 
May  ist,  1910. 


12 


THE  LEAST  OF  THESE 

HET  me  present  to  you,  as 
a  Christmas  gift,  a  jewel 
I  picked  up  once  when  I 
was  wading  around  on  the  bottom 
of  a  city.     If  you  accept  it  in  the 
spirit  in  which  it  is  offered,  you 
shall  see  that  beautiful  things  lie 
buried  in  the  muck  of  life.     Not 
truth  alone,  and  misery;  faith  is 
to   be   found  there,   and  service, 
hope,   and  charity.     They    look 
dirty  and  they  often  are  polluted, 
but  so  is  the  pearl  unclean  when 
13 


THE    LEAST   OF   THESE 

the  diver  brings  it  up,  and  dia 
monds  in  the  mine  are  rough. 

The  city  I  refer  to  seemed  to 
be  well  governed,  and  I  was 
troubled.  Good  is  hard  to  be 
lieve  ;  to  prove  it  is  harder  still.  I 
was  working  anxiously  to  be  sure, 
therefore ;  searching  deep  for  my 
evidence,  when  I  came  upon  the 
jail.  That  stood  wide  open,  both 
the  cell  doors  within  and  the 
gate  to  the  world  outside ;  and  no 
prisoner  escaped.  None  had  ever 
tried  to  since  the  day  a  fellow 
who  declared  he  was  going  was 
caught,  as  he  started,  by  the  other 
prisoners  and  quietly  thrashed. 
On  the  other  hand,  I  heard  that 
prisoners  had  been  known  to  weep 
"4 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

when,    having   done   their    time, 
they  were  sent  away. 

Now,  the  jail  of  a  city  is  not 
ordinarily  the  place  where  con 
victs  are  kept.  "Bad  men"  are 
committed  there,  but  not  for  long. 
The  jail  is  for  the  weak:  men 
and  women  and  children,  "  drunks 
and  disorderlies,"  loafers,  bums, 
vagrants,  sneak  thieves  and  petty 
criminals  generally.  They  are 
despised  by  the  police;  they  will 
obey  the  whistle  like  dogs.  They 
are  shunned  by  professional  crim 
inals  ;  they  don't  dare  help  on  a 
"  good  job,"  and,  if  compelled  to, 
will  "  peach  on  a  pal."  And,  in 
deed,  they  are  beneath  contempt. 
They  do  weak  things  weakly, 
15 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


and  are  without  respect  either  for 
themselves  or  for  one  another. 
They  are  lost  souls.  They  have 
surrendered.  They  breathe,  but 
they  are  dead.  The  jail  is  the 
tomb  where  we  bury  out  of  sight 
of  the  living  world  these  ends  of 
men  and  women,  them  and  their 
shuffling,  slinking,  harmless,  all- 
enveloping  despair  —  ordinarily. 

The  moment  you  entered,  un 
noticed,  its  open  doors,  you  felt 
that  there  was  something  out  of 
the  ordinary  about  this  particular 
jail.  The  prisoners  were  the 
same,  but  there  was  a  smile  on 
their  vice-formed  faces,  a  wan  but 
natural  smile.  It  vanished  at  sight 
of  a  natural  human  being;  the 
16 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

cowardly  eyes  shifted,  the  mean, 
soft  feet  shuffled,  the  useless  hands 
—  the  whole  thing  got  away 
somehow.  And  so  does  the  healthy 
visitor.  I  never  really  saw  that 
jail;  I  couldn't  "look  into"  it. 
But  that  smile  on  those  faces  — 
having  seen,  I  had  to  account  for 
that.  It  was  proof  positive  of  the 
presence  there  of  somebody  out 
of  the  ordinary,  so  I  searched  for 
"the  man/'  I  asked  questions  of 
the  officials  that  had  to  visit  and 
know  about  the  jail. 

These  were  not  many,  and  the 
few  didn't  know  very  much.  The 
Mayor,  whose  personality  and 
administration  made  possible  this 
wide-open  jail,  didn't  know  it  was 
17 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

open,  and  he  didn't  seem  to  care. 

"What  of  it?"  he  said.  "It's 
pretty,  and  I  guess  it's  good,  but 
it  doesn't  prove  good  government 
and  it  doesn't  prevent  bad  govern 
ment." 

He  referred  me  to  the  Direc 
tor  of  the  Department  of  Chari 
ties  and  Correction,  which  had 
jurisdiction.  That  gentleman  was 
out;  he  hardly  ever  was  in,  and 
his  staff  "  understood,  in  a  way," 
that  there  were  "  queer  doings  "  in 
the  jail ;  they  "  really  couldn't 
say"  what  they  were,  nor  who 
did  them.  The  Director  knew 
that  much.  He  said,  when  I 
found  him,  that  the  jail  was  left 

open  as  a  part  of  the  policy  of  an 

18 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

under-jailor,  one  Bailey,  but  that 
the  department  didn't  discover 
the  practice  till  experience  had 
proved  it  safe. 

"  Something  keeps  the  prison 
ers  there/'  he  said. 

"Something"  is  the  word  he 
used,  and  yet  he  knew,  he  must 
have  known,  I  thought,  that  it 
was  "  somebody. "  I  asked  him 
what  the  "thing"  might  be  that 
chained  those  prisoners  there. 

"Honor?"  I  suggested,  with 
some  sarcasm.  And  why  not? 
Honor  may  be  a  slight  virtue, 
and  primitive,  but,  as  I  urged 
upon  the  Director,  "  it  is  vigor 
ous,  and  jail-birds  are  not  vigor 


ous." 


THE   LEAST   OF   THESE 

"True/*  he  answered  me  very 
quietly,  "  you  are  altogether  right; 
jail-birds  are  not  vigorous,  but  — 
as  you  also  say  —  honor  is.  Honor 
lives  even  through  dishonor." 

Intent  upon  my  search  for 
one  Bailey,  "the"  man  I  was 
after,  it  was  annoying  to  be  stopped 
thus  by  another  man.  But  men, 
real  men,  who  see  things  from 
their  own  angle  and  play  off  their 
own  bat,  are  too  rare  to  overlook 
one,  so  when  it  appeared  that 
the  Director  also  was  "  some 
body,"  I  let  the  interview  wan 
der  far  enough  to  discover  that 
Bailey's  superior  was  wise  and 
very  gentle.  He  had  been  a  clergy 
man,  but  his  wisdom  was  of  his 


20 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

religion,  not  of  his  church.  He 
knew  this  world.  He  knew  it 
well.  He  knew  so  much  of  it 
that  he  was  sure  he  didn't  know 
much.  He  never  was  sarcastic, 
for  example;  nor  enthusiastic. 
He  had  faith  ;  he  believed  in 
God. 

"  Things  grow,"  he  said. 

We  all  believe  that,  or  say  it; 
but  when  a  man  knows  it,  when 
the  sense  of  gradual  growth  and 
natural  change  is  an  inherent  part 
of  every  thought  and  feeling  of 
his  conscious  life,  why,  then  that 
man  becomes  patient.  And  the 
Director  was  as  patient  for  good 
as  he  was  with  evil.  He  was 
patient  even  with  my  impatience. 


21 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


"Good  isn't  created,"  he  said, 
"not  even  by  God,  and,  as  for 
us  humans,  all  we  can  do  is  to 
find  it  growing  and,  by  protect 
ing  and  cultivating  the  sprouts 
and  pulling  up  the  weeds,  give 
the  good  a  better  chance." 

And  he  was  satisfied  that  this 
should  be  so.  He  went  on  to 
say  contentedly  that  he  wasn't  of 
any  importance,  and  that  Bailey 
wasn't. 

"Bailey  and  this  department," 
he  said,  "  are  only  relieving  pain. 
We  are  weeds  ourselves.  The 
Mayor  is  tending  the  good  seeds; 
he  is  cultivating  conditions  that 
will  prevent  pain.  He  is  labor 
ing  to  make  jails  and  Departments 


22 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

of  Charities  and  Correction  un 
necessary.  That's  what  he  meant 
by  his  remark  to  you  about  Bailey. 
We  all  want  to  abolish  Bailey 
and  me  or  put  ourselves  at  real 
work." 

"And  Bailey ?"  I  asked. 

"I  don't  know,  yet,"  he  said. 
"  Sometimes  I  fear  Bailey  is  mak 
ing  himself  necessary;  that  he 
is  building  something  upon  his 
own  personality ;  and  anything  a 
man  roots  solely  in  his  own  per 
sonality  dies  when  he  dies.  But, 
as  I  say,  I  don't  know,  yet.  I 
don't  need  to  know,  yet.  I'm 
looking  into  the  jail  now  and 
then  and  letting  the  thing  grow. 

It  seems  to  have  some  roots  in " 

23 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


"Things?"  I  suggested,  and  I 
could  not  help  being  bitter. 
"Things  like  honor?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said  sweetly,"There's 
something  of  that  in  it.  But 
honor  isn't  all." 

There  were  schools  in  the 
jail,  he  said ;  not  one,  but  several 
schools  or  classes.  It  was  the 
policy  of  the  under-jailor  to  have 
a  carpenter  come  in  at  night  and 
teach  carpentry ;  an  electrician 
to  teach  electricity.  A  bum  who 
had  gone  through  college  taught 
another  bum  geography,  while 
he,  the  college  graduate,  belonged 
to  a  class  of  two  that  studied 
plumbing.  It  was  a  curious  cur 
riculum.  There  was  a  Bible  class, 
24 


,  • 


<? 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

but  that  likewise  was  small. 
The  only  course  they  all  took 
together,  apparently,  was  litera 
ture  ;  the  under-jailor  read  aloud 
to  them  any  clear  English  that 
carried  thought  he  could  under 
stand.  The  list  of  his  selections 
was  odd,  modern,  but,  on  the 
whole,  noble. 

"But  what  about  this  under- 
jailor?"  I  asked  impatiently. 
"And  what  is  his  policy?" 

The  Director  answered  patient 
ly.  "Bailey?"  he  said.  "Bailey 
was  a  mission  worker.  I  had  a 
mission  church  once.  Mission 
workers  are  queer  people ;  there's 
usually  something  wrong  with 
them.  But  Bailey  —  I  saw  much 
25 


THE   LEAST   OF   THESE 


of  him ;  he  seemed  to  be  all 
right.  When  the  Mayor  made 
me  head  of  this  department, 
Bailey  asked  for  a  place  in  the 
jail;  any  place.  He  didn't  say 
what  he  wanted  it  for;  I  didn't 
ask  him.  I  thought  it  over  and 
I  decided  to — see.  I  suppose 
that  was  the  way  the  Mayor  felt 
about  me.  I  had  Bailey  appointed 
a  night  guard.  He  did  very 
well.  He  came  to  have  an  in 
fluence  over  the  prisoners.  They 
obey  his  slightest  word;  and 
when  they  go  away  they  corres 
pond  with  him.  He  teaches 
them  to  help  one  another.  It's 
very  good.  Bailey  was  promoted 
to  be  under-jailor." 
26 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


"But  what's  the  man's  idea?" 
I  asked.  "What's  his  theory?" 

The  former  clergyman  didn't 
know,  exactly.  "It  isn't  my 
idea,  you  see,"  he  said  quietly. 
"It's  Bailey's.  So  I  probably 
couldn't  understand  it  perfectly. 
You  would  better  see  Bailey." 

Of  course  I  had  to  see  Bailey, 
but  I  explained  that  I  needed 
first  the  key;  some  clue  to  the 
man ;  some  notion  of  that  about 
him  of  which  he  himself  might 
not  be  conscious. 

"What's  his  hold  on  the  pris 
oners?"  I  asked. 

"I  don't  know,  exactly,"  the 
Director  said,  incuriously.  He 

went   on    to    suggest,    however, 
27 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

that,  for  one  thing,  Bailey 
"seemed  never  to  give  a  man  up 
for  lost;  never."  Persuading  a 
drunkard  not  to  drink,  a  thief  to 
stop  stealing,  a  loafer  to  work, 
he  forgave  backsliding  not  only 
"until  seven  times "  but  "until 
seventy  times  seven."  No  mat 
ter  how  often,  no  matter 
how  low  a  fellow  might  fall, 
Bailey  told  him  there  still  was 
hope. 

Hope  for  the  hopeless!  That 
was  a  clue.  But  the  desire  — 
how  did  Bailey  awaken  the 
thought,  the  wish  to  —  hope? 

"N-n-o,"  the  Director  said, 
"it  isn't  exactly  religion."  The 
fact  was,  he  couldn't  say  just 
28 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

what  it  was,  unless  it  was  that 
Bailey  had  hope  to  give,  and 
faith.  And,  as  if  it  were  re 
lated,  he  added:  "He  does  give 
service,  you  know.  Bailey  per 
forms  the  most  menial  offices  for 
these  people;  tasks  they  won't 
do  for  one  another." 

The  Director  told  me  what 
some  of  these  services  were,  and 
they  were,  indeed,  menial.  They 
were  horrid;  necessary,  but  im 
possible. 

My  perplexity  made  the  Direc 
tor  smile,  but  he  couldn't  or 
wouldn't  —  at  any  rate  he  didn't 
help  me  to  understand.  And  the 
insight  I  got  from  him  was  pro 
found  as  compared  with  that  fur- 
29 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

nished  by  all  others.      I    had   to 
see  Bailey. 

Bailey  did  not  shake  hands 
when  we  met.  I  offered  to,  but 
he  looked  away  and  led  me  to 
the  desk  where  he  kept  his  cor 
respondence  with  his  discharged 
prisoners.  He  was  a  small  man, 
young,  not  well,  evidently,  and 
very  serious.  Bailey  never  smiled. 
Having  been  directed  to  show 
me  some  sample  letters,  he  did 
so.  They  were  rude,  penciled, 
often  incoherent  writings  from 
many,  many  places ;  for,  of  course, 
the  writers  were  tramps  and  petty 
thieves.  One  note  ran  through 
them  all,  however  —  endeavor, 

dull  hope  and  an  affectionate  re- 

30 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

spect  for  Bailey. 

"I  fell  in  Pittsburg,  but  got 
out  and  moved  on.  Was  pulled 
in  Scranton  on  suspicion.  When 
I  got  out,  I  got  that  way  again. 
I  ain't  no  good,  Mr.  Bailey,  but 
I  remember  what  you  says  to  me 
that  time.  I'll  never  quit  trying." 

Bailey  remarked  uneasily,  by 
way  of  explanation,  that  these 
men  were  "tired."  They  had 
no  strength,  and  it  was  a  "rest 
for  them  to  give  up;  to  quit 
trying." 

"What's  the  use  of  tiring 
them?"  I  asked. 

Bailey  fussed  with  the  papers, 
put  some  letters  carefully  away, 
got  out  others  before  he  replied. 
31 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

"  It  seems  like  suicide  when 
they  give  up  the  last  hope,"  he 
said.  "It's  like  dying.  And 
anybody  will  try  to  save  anybody 
that  is  dying,  I  think." 

There  was  no  rebuke  in  the 
tone  of  the  reply,  as  there  was 
in  the  substance.  Bailey  evi 
dently  did  not  expect  either 
sympathy  or  understanding.  I 
guess  he  was  used  to  my  atti 
tude.  I  did  not  alter  it,  how 
ever;  not  then. 

"But  what  makes  them  tired?" 
I  asked,  and  I  suppose  I  sneered 
when  1  suggested  "Work?" 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  directly, 
"  work  and  vice.  Vice  weakens 
them.  Work  tires  them  very 
32 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

much." 

"How  do  they  know  that?"  I 
asked.  "Did  they  ever  try  it?  " 

Bailey  fussed  with  those  letters, 
keeping  his  eyes  fixed  upon 
them,  but  he  answered: 

"Yes;  most  of  them  did,  as 
children." 

As  children !  Were  bums  the 
products  of  child  labor?  Was 
that  the  genesis  of  the  good-for- 
nothing  ? 

"Yes,"  said  Bailey,  simply. 
"A  large  percentage  of  our  pris 
oners  are  exhausted  human  be 
ings,  devitalized  by  early  work. 
They  have  no  energy  left,  no 
spirit,  no  strength.  Early  vice 
explains  others.  The  rest  are 
33 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

born  so." 

"Born  tired!  "  I  almost  laugh 
ed  forth  the  well-worn  phrase, 
but  Bailey  did  not  notice. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "born  of  tired 
or  vicious  parents." 

He  spoke  like  Fate,  without 
resentment,  without  sorrow,with- 
out  purpose.  He  wasn't  trying, 
he  evidently  did  not  expect  to 
convince  me.  He  saw  that  I 
was  an  educated  ignoramus  and 
he  simply  handed  out  to  me, 
as  a  weary  salesman  will,  what 
ever  I  called  for.  And  this  fact 
crushed  me.  Reading  such  things 
in  books  is  one  thing;  taking 
them  direct  from  a  man  that 
knows  is  another.  Hearsay  some- 
34 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


how  convinces  one.  I  changed 
my  tone. 

"  What  can  you  hope  to  do 
for  them,  Bailey  ?"  I  asked 
gently. 

He  noticed  the  change.  He 
glanced  up  at  me,  but  his  eyes 
couldn't  stand  my  gaze.  They 
dropped. 

"I  kind  o'  hope,"  he  said 
softly,  "  to  make  them  hope. 
Men  smile  when  they  hope,  and 
there's  strength  in  a  smile/' 

Stabbing  at  his  vitals,  as  a  re 
porter  must,  to  get  the  news,  I 
said  : 

"But  you,  Bailey,  you  don't 
smile?" 

He  ceased  fussing  with  the 
35 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


papers;  he  was  still  a  moment. 
Then  he  seemed  to  speak  the 
truth. 

"  There  is  no  hope  for  me," 
he  said. 

I  made  him  go  on  by  keeping 
silent  myself,  silent  and  expec 
tant. 

"  There  isn't  much  hope  for 
them  either,  really,  but  I  can  do 
something  for  some  of  them/* 
he  said.  "  But,"  he  concluded 
after  an  interval,  "  nobody  can 
do  anything  for  me." 

It  would  be  hard  to  say  what 
it  was  that  was  so  convincing  in 
this  statement  by  this  man.  His 
humility  was  obvious;  it  shroud 
ed  his  whole  attitude,  physical 
36 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


and  mental.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
it  was  more  like  shame  than  re 
signation.  I  felt  that  I  was  near 
a  knowledge  and  a  philosophy 
which  I  never  could  fathom, 
and  I  did  not  wonder  any 
more  that  the  Director  "didn't 
know/'  To  gain  time  and 
the  man's  confidence,  and  so 
get  his  story,  which  the  Director 
said  Bailey  never  had  told  and 
never  would  tell,  I  drew  him 
out  about  his  work. 

His  "  method  JJ  was  to  meet 
the  new  prisoners  as  a  friend ; 
not  as  a  jailor,  and  yet  "not  ex 
actly  "  with  kindness;  but  "more 
on  a  level,  man  to  man."  Tak 
ing  them  in,  he  made  them  com- 

37 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


fortable.  He  cleaned  them,  as  a 
nurse  would  clean  them ;  washed 
them;  treated  their  bruises;  bathed 
their  sores ;  clothed  them  warm 
ly  ;  put  them  to  bed  and  to  sleep. 
"  Sometimes  they  are  brutal, 
yes,"  he  said.  "  And  they  have 
hurt  me.  But  I  never  mind.  I 
understand  that  they  do  not 
understand  such  treatment.  But 
they  remember.  Most  of  them 
have  had  a  mother  or  somebody 
who  was  that  way  with  them, 
and  by  and  by,  when  they  are  tired 
of  resisting,  they  remember  that 
way.  I  have  seen  the  tears  come 
then.  I  have  seen  them  sob  as 
little  children  do  when  they  are 
tired  —  sob,  and  sigh,  and  so  fall 
38  ' 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


asleep,  smiling.  That's  always 
good ;  the  first  clean  sleep  like 
that  is  a  great  deal  to  them/' 

The  odd  curriculum  of  the 
school  came  about  in  this  way,  he 
said :  He  searched  the  new  pris 
oners'  minds  as  the  police  searched 
their  pockets,  and,  though  he 
found  as  little,  there  was  always 
something :  some  interest,  some 
poor,  starved,  dying  interest.  The 
only  hold  the  man  who  studied 
electricity  had  left  on  all  the  in 
terests  of  this  world  was  a  curi 
osity  about  the  theory  of 
that  subject.  He  had  had  it  as 
a  boy,  but  never  could  satisfy  it. 
Bailey  was  trying  to  satisfy  it. 

"Maybe  he    is    a    genius,"   I 
39 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


said,  "and  will  do  something 
great  after  all." 

Bailey  shook  his  head.  "No/* 
he  said,  "  he  is  no  use  any  more. 
He  was  put  to  work  at  nine  in  a 
glass  works;  pushed  a  little  car 
from  the  hot  room  into  the  cold 
room,  and  back,  many  times  a 
day,  for  years.  He  is  almost 
blind,  bent,  and  —  tired.  No,  he 
can't  do  anything  in  electricity. 
But  I  thought  electricity  might 
do  something  for  him,  give  him 
an  interest  —  hope  —  a  false  hope 
—  good  only  for  his — " 

"Soul,"  I  finished,  to  get  over 
it.  "Yes,  I  see.  You  think 
these  funny  little  interests  of 

theirs  are  the  way  to  their  minds 

40 


THE   LEAST   OF   THESE 


or  souls,  and  so  you  teach  them 
anything  they  want  to  learn  — 
geography,  plumbing,  the  Bible/' 

"Yes,"  said  Bailey. 

"And  you  don't  teach  them 
anything  they  don't  want  to 
learn?" 

"No,"  said  Bailey.  "That's 
a  mistake  which  is  often  made 
with  such  people." 

"  You  mean  it's  wrong  to  try 
to  teach  them  what  we  think 
they  ought  to  know?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Bailey.  "They  are 
sick  people,  sick  of  soul,  and 
very  low,  and  sick  souls  must  be 
fed  like  sick  stomachs  with  any 
thing  they  can  take  in  and  keep 
down." 

41 


THE   LEAST   OF   THESE 


I  shifted  the  subject  to  the 
"bad  men/'  the  prisoners  who 
were  not  vagrants,  but  petty 
criminals.  Bailey's  face  bright 
ened. 

"There's  hope  for  them,"  he 
responded  eagerly,  almost  cheer 
ily.  "  Crime  takes  some  strength, 
courage,  enterprise  —  yes,  even 
petty  crime  as  compared  with 
vagrancy." 

And  Bailey  told  how  he  "let" 
them  help  one  another  and  the 
vagrants.  Finding  that  they 
formed  little  groups  of  two, 
three  and  more,  he  encouraged 
these  "gangs"  and,  suggesting 
(without  seeming  to)  that  they 

hang    together    after    they   were 

42 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


released,  he  developed  a  practise 
which  has  become  an  institution. 
The  first  gang  that  went  forth 
consciously  organized  to  look  for 
honest  work  agreed  among  them 
selves  that  the  first  to  find  a  job 
was  to  divide  equally  with  the 
others.  The  second  was  to  do 
the  same,  and  the  third,  and  so 
on  till  they  all  had  "landed/* 
None  of  them  landed  till  Bailey 
had  used  secretly  a  political  pull 
for  one  man.  That  man  hired 
a  room  where  they  all  slept. 
They  hadn't  food  enough,  but 
there  was  the  jail,  like  a  home, 
in  the  background,  and  though 
Bailey  saw  to  it  that  the  gang 
did  not  lose  the  fascinating  sense 

43 


THE   LEAST   OF   THESE 


of  independent  self-help,  he  car 
ried  the  scheme  through.  And 
then,  when  other  prisoners  and 
"gangs'*  came  out,  they  were 
assisted  by  the  first,  and  so  merg 
ing,  grew  like  a  trust.  Not 
rapidly,  of  course,  for  the  mem 
bers  kept  falling,  old  and  new, 
again  and  again. 

Nobody  but  Bailey,  I  guess, 
could  have  put  up  with  the  dis 
appointments  of  that  organiza 
tion.  The  members  themselves 
couldn't  at  first.  The  drunkards 
couldn't  see  why  an  habitual 
thief  had  to  steal,  and  the  thief 
lacked  sympathy  with  the  drunk 
ard.  Sometimes  their  disgust 
with  one  another  was  amusing. 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


One  reformed  "  drunk  and  dis 
orderly"  used  to  curse,  and  urge 
the  expulsion  of  every  other  re 
formed  drunkard  or  thief  that 
lost  a  job,  though  all  the  while 
he  himself  was  backsliding 
periodically  and  costing  more 
than  he  contributed.  Bailey's 
patience  shamed  them  gradually 
into  a  rough  tolerance  till  they, 
too,  learned  "never  to  give  a 
man  up;  never. " 

Well,  as  the  gangs  came  out 
of  the  jail  and  joined  the  trust, 
more  rooms  were  hired,  and 
more,  till  finally  the  city  took 
cognizance  and  rented  a  house; 
then  the  house  next  door;  and 
the  last  time  I  was  there  it  had 
45 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

three  houses  strung  together  by 
doors  cut  in  the  walls. 

"There  had  to  be  a  place  for 
them  to  fall  back  on  as  a  home," 
Bailey  said,  when  he  concluded 
his  account.  "And  a  house  like 
that  is  better  than  a  jail." 

"And  there  must  be  some 
body,"  I  suggested,  "  some  friend 
somewhere  to  visit  and  write  to  ? " 

"Yes,"  said  Bailey. 

"Somebody  that  believes  in 
them?"  I  pressed,  prying. 

"Yes,"  said  Bailey. 

"Somebody  that  knows  the 
worst  in  them  and  still  believes." 

"Yes,"  said  Bailey. 

"And  what  sort  of  a   man  is 

that,  Bailey?" 

46 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


He  began  fussing  with  his 
papers  again,  and  that  wouldn't 
do.  I  went  at  him  direct. 

"How  do  you  do  it,  Bailey ?" 

He  looked  up  for  just  a 
second,  then  down  went  his  eyes. 
But  he  answered. 

"Their  friend  cannot  be  a 
superior  person,"  he  said,  squirm 
ing.  "  He  cannot  be  better  than 
they  or  he  couldn't  stand  it,  and 
they  couldn't,  either."  He  hesi 
tated  before  he  went  on.  "  I 
tell  them  that  I  am  as  low  as 
they  are,  and  —  and  that's  true." 

He  hurried  on  to  tell  me 
some  of  the  awful  things  his 
prisoners  had  done,  things  I  had 
never  heard  of.  One  should 

47 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


know  of  them  to  understand  fully 
the  man  and  his  work,  but  it  is 
better  not  to  understand  fully. 
It's  enough  that  after  he  had  told 
enough  he  repeated  his  humilia 
tion. 

"  I  can  talk  to  any  of  them, 
help  them  all,  because  I  am  as 
low  as  they  are/' 

It  was  time  for  his  story,  and 
I  asked  for  it.  He  told  it. 

The  first  thing  he  remembers 
of  his  life  is  standing  as  a  little 
boy  on  the  bar  of  a  dive,  singing. 
He  can  see  that  scene  vividly. 
He  seems  to  have  had  a  pretty 
child's  voice ;  learned  songs  easily; 
and  his  father,  a  drunken  bum, 
took  him  around,  making  him 
48 


*v.^w- 
*/A^Myv- 


&SiS(stS-S 

/£^^~J\-     *,&r  sL^  s~l>*-^-^S~  •^'l^-     •^Z/W^€^--<^<^-*--£;    ( 
^^   ^x^^/^t^A^f    ffl 

7  x  ^/' 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

perform  for  drinks.  And  the 
child  sang  till  the  man  was  drunk; 
then  they  both  slept  —  in  alleys, 
boxes,  empty  cars  —  where  they 
fell.  This  went  on  for  years. 
Often  the  child  was  drunken, 
too ;  whenever  the  barroom 
drunkards  said,  "  Give  the  kid  a 
drink,"  he  was  made  to  drink. 
It  was  amusing  to  see  the  kid 
get  drunk,  sing  wildly,  reel  and, 
finally,  drop. 

The  father  died.  The  boy 
woke  up  one  morning  to  find 
him  cold  and,  knowing  nothing 
else  to  do,  went  on  singing  for 
pennies  and  food  and  the  drinks, 
till  his  voice  cracked.  Then, 
his  friends  being  tramps,  the  boy 
49 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


took  to  the  road.  He  did  what 
tramps  did :  begged,  stole,  drank, 
rode  on  car  trucks  and  in  empty 
freights.  He  was  debauched  at 
four  or  five,  degraded  and  dis 
eased  at  twelve.  And  yet,  as  he 
told  the  story,  I  could  see  that  a 
spirit  that  may  have  been  his 
mother's  (whom  he  never  saw 
or  heard  of)  —  a  soul  that  must 
have  been  fine  and  strong  orig 
inally —  had  lived  through  it  all. 
The  mission  caught  it  first.  He 
reformed.  He  learned  to  read, 
and  also  somehow  —  this  he 
never  could  explain  —  some 
how  Bailey  rose  above  the 
emotion  to  an  understanding 
of  religion  and  of  his  world. 
5° 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


It  is  given  to  few  really  to 
understand  Christianity ;  Bailey 
seemed  to.  His  life  —  the  worst 
of  it,  I  mean  —  seems  to  have 
made  possible  such  an  utter 
comprehension  as  he  had  of 
the  doctrine  of  humility,  for 
giveness,  love  and  service.  In 
deed,  he  said  as  much  indirectly. 
"  Christ  must  have  been  di 
vine/'  he  reasoned  once,  "be 
cause,  being  pure,  he  understood 
my  kind  of  people.  The  only 
others  that  do  —  are  my  kind  of 
people.  And,"  looking  up  he 
added  rather  naively,  "I  think 
we  understand  Him.  Why,  He 
said  that  unless  ye  do  it  unto 
the  least  of  these  ye  do  it  not 
51 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


unto  me.'3 


Bailey's  eyes  widened  as  he 
spoke,  as  if  to  comprehend  a 
justice  as  big  as  that. 

"So  you,  Bailey,  are  doing  it 
unto  the  least  of  these.  Why 
aren't  you  happy?" 

"Oh,  you  don't  understand," 
he  said,  shocked  at  my  interpre 
tation.  "I  am  the  least  of  these. 
That's  why  I  can  help  them  as 
no  other  can ;  but,  you  see,  there 
is  nobody  can  help  me." 

Seeing  in  my  face  the  doubt 
and  annoyance  I  felt,  he  repeated 
the  singular  remark  he  made  be 
fore.  "That's  true,"  he  said. 

Was  it  ?  I  recalled  his  avoid 
ance  of  my  hand  when  we  met; 
52 


THE   LEAST   OF   THESE 

his  humility  that  was  so  much 
like  shame;  and,  studying  him 
there  painfully  before  me,  I  was 
half  convinced.  I  could  not 
be  wholly  convinced  because, 
you  see,  I  realized  that  if 
a  spirit  that  was  as  beautiful  as 
his;  that  could  do  a  service  as  loath 
some,  hopeless,  loving  and  patient 
as  that  which  he  did  there  in  that 
jail,  day  in  and  day  out;  if  such 
a  soul  could  live  and  work  in  a 
low  body  that  was  still  low,  why, 
then  —  then  there  was  hope  for 
all  and  forever. 

And  it  was  true.  Year  by  year 
I  looked  in  upon  Bailey's  city ;  al 
ways  inquiring  about  Bailey's  jail. 
His  work  was  growing,  expand- 

53 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


ing,  and  the  Director,  wonderful 
man,  was  letting  it  grow.  Till 
this  year.  When  I  called  there 
in  the  spring  and  asked  about 
the  jail,  the  Director  said  that 
the  jail  and  its  organization  were 
doing  very  well.  He  went  into 
detail.  He  went  with  unwonted 
eagerness  into  great  detail.  The 
schools  had  developed;  the  in 
struction  was  better,  and,  yes,  the 
curriculum  was  determined  strict 
ly  by  the  wishes  of  the  prisoners, 
each  prisoner.  And  the  houses 
had  increased  in  number;  that 
was  the  time  I  learned  that  there 
were  three. 

"Bailey  built  well/1  the  Direc 
tor  concluded.    "It  was  something 
54 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


that  wanted  to  be  done,  a  good 
that  existed  and  he  cultivated  it 
so  well  that  it  could  go  on  with 
out  him.  Bailey  made  himself 
unnecessary/' 

"Bailey  is  gone,  then/'  I  in 
ferred. 

"  Yes,"  the  Director  lied  kindly, 
"he  left  us." 

Bailey  had  been  discharged. 
And  for  cause.  I  had  to  drag 
forth  the  good  news.  The  Di 
rector  didn't  want  to  tell  me  the 
cause.  He  thought  I  had  ideal 
ized  Bailey,  and  he  didn't  care 
to  destroy  anybody's  idols.  Let 
ting  things  grow,  the  Director 
was  willing  also  to  let  them 
wither  and  die  of  themselves. 
55 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 


But  my  interest,  as  you  know, 
was  other  than  he  thought;  it 
was  in  the  news,  not  the  man,  so 
I  challenged  the  Director. 

"I  think/'  I  said,  "that  I 
would  not  have  discharged  that 
man  for  any  cause. " 

"You  would  if  you  knew 
what  the  cause  was,"  he  answered. 

And  remembering  that  the 
Director,  knowing  more  evil, 
was  more  merciful  than  I,  and 
wiser  and  more  patient,  I  was 
convinced.  It  was  true. 

It  is  true.  It  is  true  that 
there  is  hope  for  all  and  forever; 
it  is  true  that  the  spirit  of  an 
angel  can  live  in  a  body  that  is 
low;  it  is  true  that  beautiful  things, 
56 


THE   LEAST   OF  THESE 

polluted  but  precious,  lie  buried 
in  the  muck  at  the  bottom  of 
the  cities. 


57 


BERKELEY,  CA  9, 


